


Teach Me A Lesson

by mollus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Humour, M/M, Misuse of Architecture, Teaching Assistant Castiel, Teaching Assistant Dean, abuse of office supplies, long suffering professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 09:30:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12429930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollus/pseuds/mollus
Summary: Professor Madison was very tired, and it was only 4:00pm. She contemplated the mug of coffee cradled in her lap, then looked up at the boys sitting in front of her desk.At least one of them had the decency to look a little sheepish. Castiel, of course. Dean, on the other hand…The only word that came to mind was satisfied.“Boys,” she began slowly, “In all my years of having a TA position for my seminar course, I can honestly say that absolutely nothing like this has ever happened.”College AU featuring architecture duels, accidental stalking, irritated flirting (the best kind), abuse of office furniture, and a professor that honestly, brought this upon herself.





	Teach Me A Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> Literally any mention of architecture should be examined with the note that the author has studied two things: English and Nursing. Just to keep in mind.

Professor Madison was very tired, and it was only 4:00pm. She contemplated the mug of coffee cradled in her lap, then looked up at the boys sitting in front of her desk.

At least one of them had the decency to look a little sheepish. Castiel, of course. Dean, on the other hand…

The only word that came to mind was _satisfied_.

“Boys,” she began slowly, “In all my years of having a TA position for my seminar course, I can honestly say that absolutely _nothing_ like this has ever happened.” She stared them down.

Castiel’s ears turned pink. Dean’s smirk only got wider.

Professor Madison sighed, and pushed up her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. She settled back in her chair again.

“Well, start from the beginning,” she said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dean loved, liked really, really **loved** his architecture courses. Something about the simplicity of the lines, the creativity in designing projects that people would actually enjoy, had appealed to him from day one in Professor Madison’s Introduction to Architecture course._

_And he was good at it, too, thankfully. His mind just seemed suited to think in space, in ordering and arranging concepts. It probably didn’t hurt that he’d grown up doodling the buildings of the random places they ended up in when his dad was out of work, so his drawing hand was decent enough by the time he got to school._

_The point is: Dean likes this crap. And Dean is **good** at this crap. In fact, Dean would argue that he is probably the best at this crap in his program. And he likes Professor Madison. She took no shit, and was usually happy to offer advice when a student got stuck on a tricky concept. So when Professor Madison said that she offered a TA position every year for her seminar, Dean thought he’d be a shoo-in. _

_He couldn’t stop to talk to her after class- he had another class on advanced structural design- so when he was finally done for the day, he legged it straight to her office. He was so out of breath from running across the entire campus (it was seriously someone’s sick joke that they’d spread his classes into three buildings, I mean **seriously** , it was the damn **architecture** program!) that when he saw her door was open, he didn’t exactly stop to think. _

_Dean burst into the office with an opening of “Hey, Professor Madison I’m here about the TA posi-”_

_This was exactly how far he made it when he realized that there were, in fact, **two** people in the room, and one of them was sitting in front of her desk. _

_And there was a resume open on top of it._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Castiel blinked at the sudden intrusion of the boy who now stood, face flaming, at the office door._

_“Ah, Dean!” Professor Madison said. “I was expecting you to show up some time today. Although, perhaps in a slightly less frantic manner. Please, take a seat.”_

_The boy seemed to recover quickly, and strode across the room to the seat next to Castiel. He sat down, looked at Castiel, and then away, with a perplexing expression- his forehead creased and mouth tight._

_Castiel realized he was staring, and looked back at the professor. One of the first things his friend, Anna, had said when he met her in orientation to computer sciences in second year was that he had, and he quoted, “the staring force of 10,000 terrified chihuahuas”. Castiel wasn’t entirely certain of the connection- he was fairly certain he wasn’t likely to pee himself if he got nervous- but he knew by now that he did unnerve some people, and tried to remember that fact._

_Meanwhile, Professor Madison was smiling at the both of them. “So, this is interesting!” She said, cheerily. “I haven’t had a situation like this in a few years.”_

_Castiel’s palms started to perspire. The other boy still hadn’t spoken._

_“…Situation?” He asked, carefully. He tucked his hands, nonchalantly (he hoped) under his thighs._

_“Oh yes,” the teacher continued. “I have two students, who are equally placed in talent, who would both like my TA position. This is an excellent opportunity for you both.” She laced her fingers together on the desk._

_Now the other boy spoke. “Professor Madison…” he began, but she cut him off._

_“There is one thing for it,” she said, “You’ll compete for the position.”_

_Castiel blanched. He didn’t like open competition, never had. It reminded him a little too much of trying to live at home with his brothers. However, he needed the scholarship this position would provide, and he really needed the experience on his resume or he might lose the initial scholarship that got him into this school. If he didn’t manage to stay in school completely for free, Michael would have him back home in a second._

_“At the end of the month, I’d like you to both submit concepts for workshops about designs for buildings aimed at children. After all, you would be helping me to teach the class you’d be TA-ing for. This way, I get to see what you both have to offer to the position, and you both get to add this to your resume; or at least get some extra credit. So: best of luck to the both of you gentlemen, and I shall await the results.” She smiled at the, a clear dismissal._

_They both got to their feet, and Castiel followed Dean out of the room._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

“Boys,” Professor Madison said, “I know this part. _I was there for it_.”

“Professor,” Castiel said, “You did request to start from the beginning.” He crossed his arms.

Dean glanced at him, and elbowed him.

Professor Madison could feel a headache coming on. She raised her eyebrow at them. Dean slumped down in his chair.

“Continue,” she sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_When Dean got out of that office, he was ready to explode. Who the hell was this kid? He wasn’t majoring in the architecture program, or Dean would know him already, there wasn’t that many of them in the upper level courses. This meant, as far as Dean knew, that this guy had the audacity to try and take this position from someone who was actually committed to doing the program. He probably wanted the money for parties or some shit._

_Either way, he didn’t want anything to do with his “competition”, so he decided the best idea was to get the hell out of there. He started quickly down the hallway, but the guy followed._

_Whatever, Dean thought; maybe he’s parked outside the hall too. Then suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. Dean spun around._

_The guy had his hands up like the police had cornered him. Given that he was a few inches shorter than Dean was, and had the stare of a baby dear, it was almost laughable. If Dean didn’t honestly want to kill him, he **would’ve** laughed._

_“Listen,” the guy said, “I don’t want to-”_

_Unfortunately, five words was exactly the length of Dean’s fuse was at the moment._

_“Oh no, **you** listen, asshole,” Dean snarled, stabbing his finger at the guy’s face, who took a step backwards. “I’ve worked my ass off for this program. I fucking **love** this shit. You think you can just wander in and take it because you like to draw pretty lines sometimes?”_

_The guy raised an eyebrow. “I just wanted to say-”_

_“I don’t give a flying fuck what you have to say. I need that TA position, so I’m going to take it. You and me, we’re competitors, and that’s all that fucking matters. Deal?” Dean knew he was letting his temper get way out of control, but it was all out before he could think it through._

_The guy’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his hands to his sides. “Deal,” he said. Then he turned on his heel, letting the ridiculous trench coat (what university student wears a fucking trench coat?) he was wearing flap behind him, and walked stiffly back down the hall._

_Dean was seized for a moment with the desire to apologize. He had really let loose at this guy, when it was Professor Madison that was directing the whole shit-show. And Sammy always said he’d regret those blow-ups someday. But the guy was already all the way down the hall and pushing the door open, and then he was gone._

_So Dean turned around, and started brainstorming. He got the feeling this could be more work than he anticipated._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Castiel found his bike where he had locked it outside the building. His hands shook with so much contained fury that he almost couldn’t get his combination right._

_The nerve of Dean, saying he had no right to the position! Professor Madison had said they were equally talented, and he doubted she would lie. Dean didn’t know one thing about him._

_Well, fine, Castiel thought. She wanted a competition. She’s going to get it._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

“Alright,” Professor Madison said, pouring herself a second cup of coffee, “That explains some of it, I suppose. Dean, you have quite the temper.”

Dean shrugged. “Sorry,” he said. “My mouth sometimes gets away from me.”

Castiel grinned at him. Dean looked at him, and the tips of his ears turned pink.

Professor Madison coughed pointedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Over the next few weeks, Dean barely left the library. He studied everything from ecological building materials to colour palettes that appealed to 6-12-year-olds. He even started stacking books in an abandoned corner of the library when he needed to visualize (god knew his laptop couldn’t handle the kind of software something like that would require, maybe he’d be able to afford a refurbished one when he got the TA position). It was his home away from home, and by week three, he thought he was in pretty good shape._

_There was only one problem._

**_He_ ** _was there too. Dean didn’t even know his damn name._

_Every time Dean came in it seemed like that guy, his competition, was already there. Already with a stack of books, and **often ones that Dean had wanted** , god **damn** it, and tapping away at one of the library’s computers. _

_And it wasn’t just the library. When Dean went to the local elementary school, he saw that guy in the park, pushing a kid on the swings and talking to them. When he went to the local swimming pool, he saw him in the stands, writing in a notebook. When he went to the campus coffee shop at 1am, the **one night** he didn’t see him at the library, the guy was there, wearing an apron and wiping tables! (Dean bailed at the door.)_

_Dean had tried to complain to his brother, Sam, but Sam had only listened for about five minutes, then said, “Dean, you’re joking, right?” and hung up. Which Dean didn’t get._

_Anyways, Dean had moved beyond irritated, now he was seriously pissed._

_One evening he got into the library around 10pm. He was already exhausted from having four classes that day, but Dean knew it was crunch time. When he got to the section of the library closest to the architecture books, he noticed the guy at the corner computer. Dean sighed mentally, but found a seat across the room._

_Dean managed to work for a solid hour before he realized he’d forgotten one of the most useful books, the one on concepts of natural lighting, on a shelf in the back corner._

_He got up to go find it._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Castiel was so far into his research on the psychological effects of colourful pictures in sustaining attention spans that he didn’t even notice when Dean came in. When he eventually looked up from his notes, he saw his back, seated at a table at the far end of the room._

_Castiel huffed to himself in frustration. For the love of god, he could not escape that man. He understood that they were bound to run into each other, doing the same project, but it was like he was following Castiel’s every footstep! He rolled his eyes, flipped a page, and got back to what he was doing._

_Eventually, he realized that he was missing a page of research. He rifled through his bag, assuming that it was in there, somewhere. When he realized it wasn’t, he almost started to panic- when he remembered that he’d put it inside the book he had been referencing from, the one about natural lighting, and realized that he must have put it back on the shelf, with the research still inside._

_He quickly put his papers down, and went to the shelf to find it._

_And, of **fucking** course, who should he find, hand reaching for that particular book, but Dean. _

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Dean wasn’t thinking of anything in particular as he reached for the book- maybe an idea about reflecting light from the windows onto strategic mirrors- when the book in question was snatched off the shelf right in front of his nose._

_Dean whipped his head down and over._

_Who else could it **possibly** be. _

_The guy stood there, book in hand, looking strangely… guilty?_

_Dean didn’t really stop to think. He grabbed the book back._

_Unfortunately, he moved a little too hastily. And instead of grabbing the book, he grabbed the book and the guy’s **hand** , and yanked both right into his chest. _

_Suddenly, instead of the guy being three feet away, he was about three centimeters away._

_The guy stared up into Dean’s eyes. Bambi eyes again, Dean thought, numbly._

_He’d never really noticed how blue those eyes were before._

_The guy flushed pink, and Dean’s breath caught. His eyes might have flickered down for a second._

_Managing to dropkick his brain back into gear, he dropped the guy’s hand and the book like a hot poker and leapt backwards._

_The guy rolled his eyes. Then he opened the book, took out a piece of paper that was stuck between some pages, and handed it back to Dean. Then turned around, and marched back out of the stacks._

_Dean glowered. Then he put the book under his arm, walked back to his desk, and stuffed his face in the pages._

_He made sure he didn’t leave before the guy did. Not that, you know, he cared, or anything._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Castiel made it about another hour before he had to call it a night. He gathered his things, making certain to check the books he had been looking at for stray pages this time, and swept out the door, looking straight ahead and not glancing around **at all**. _

_He wanted to call Anna and tell her what happened, but he knew better by this point. Every time he mentioned Dean she just smirked at him and rolled her eyes, whatever that meant._

_Regardless, it took him two hours to fall asleep. He kept thinking of warms hands on his wrist._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

“And this was… how long, before the deadline?” Professor Madison asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“About… four days?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_It was D-Day for Dean. Deadline day._

_He walked quickly to Professor Madison’s office, looking at his watch:  precisely 2:30pm, a half hour before when the projects were officially due. Perfect. He’d get there extra early and it would look all the better._

_His project, if he did say so himself, rocked. Like, hard-core. He’d poured absolutely everything he knew into it, and it was beautiful- 25 pages of words and graphics, explaining exactly why he’d made what choices he had. And hopefully, why he was the obviously best candidate for the TA position._

_When he got to her office five minutes later, the door was open, so Dean walked right in._

_By this point, he wasn’t even a little surprised to see the guy already sitting there, an equally-massive paper on his lap. The guy glanced up at him, and then away again._

_Dean sighed heavily. No other choice. He collapsed heavily into the chair next to the guy._

_They waited in silence for the next 25 minutes._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_When 3pm rolled around and the professor didn’t show, Castiel started to feel slightly antsy. He knew she was probably just running late (Castiel thought that she lived across town, and there had been some very thorough construction in the middle of town the past few weeks), but he couldn’t help but anxiously start to tap his pen on his binder. He didn’t even notice he was doing it._

_That is, he didn’t notice, until Dean whipped his head around at him and snarled, “For the love of Christ, will you **cut that shit out**?”_

_Castiel froze. He turned his head, ever so slowly, towards Dean, until he was staring him in the eye._

_Dean was glaring at the floor._

_“Cut that shit out?” Castiel said, carefully, quietly. “Oh, am I **bothering** you?” his voice went up into something resembling a shriek at the end. “Something **irrational** is bothering you? Something **I** did? Gee, I fucking **wonder what that’s like!”**_

_Castiel realized somewhere in there he had gotten to his feet._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_The guy had jumped to his feet, and the rational part of Dean was telling him they should both calm down._

_“Because,” the guy continued, “It’s not like I’m **following** people around, or anything **!** It’s not like I get in their way or **TAKE THEIR BOOKS OR ANYTHING!”** the guy shouted._

_Dean had never been very good at listening to that rational part._

_Dean jumped to his feet as well. “What, so you weren’t fucking following **me** around, you prick? How the hell were you always where I fucking was, then?!” He shouted back._

_“I don’t know, Dean, maybe because I’m doing the same damn project!” the guy yelled._

_Dean had knocked over his chair when he got up, and there was nothing standing between them anymore. The room was suddenly too close. And warm._

_“Oh, **fuck y-”** _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That, I believe,” Professor Madison said, “Is when I walked in, yes?”

Dean nodded.

“To be fair, Professor…” Castiel said, “It could be suggested that you brought some of this on yourself.”

Dean looked like he was trying to stifle a giggle.

Professor Madison sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“ **BOYS** ” Came a shout from the door, which neither Castiel nor Dean had been paying attention to. _

_Professor Madison stood there with her coat and a coffee, looking displeased._

_Castiel gulped. He saw Dean’s face pale out of the corner of his eye._

_“Sit. Down.” She said coldly._

_Castiel hurried to his chair, dropped himself in it, and proceeded to have a staring contest with the floor. He heard, rather than saw, Dean pick his chair up, and sit down quietly._

_Professor Madison hung her coat up and sat at her desk. She glared at them both._

_“Explain.”_

_There was silence for a moment. And then-_

_“Professor Madison, I was waiting here for you and then he blew up at me for no-”_

_“Oh for fuck’s sake, not this bullshit again!”_

_“Oh, bullshit? Me tapping a pen is bullshit? What about following me around-”_

_-“I **wasn’t** following **anyone** you won’t leave me-”_

_“You showed up at my **workplace** you **ass-** ”_

_“-Because I wanted some friggin’ coffee!”_

_“ **ENOUGH!”**_

_They both glared at the floor._

_“It is clear,” Professor Madison said, eyes narrowed, “That you both have a problem with each other. That being said, it should not interfere with your work. I don’t know what’s happened over the past few weeks, and I don’t care. You’re both very lucky I don’t throw away your entries and consider someone else.”_

_Castiel looked at her in horror. He’d spent so much time and effort on his work, he couldn’t afford to have it all wasted now._

_He saw Dean’s fists clench in his lap._

_“So,” Professor Madison said, “We’re going to up our little experiment.”_

_Castiel raised his eyebrows._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Dean didn’t think Professor Madison was mad, exactly, but he didn’t trust her tone of voice, either._

_“I can tell you both care quite deeply about this role.” Professor Madison said. “I haven’t even had a chance to look at your proposals yet, but they both appear to be more than adequate.”_

_She steepled her fingers on the desk, and smiled._

_Dean felt that feeling of foreboding triple._

_“Our experiment then, gentlemen, shall be thus: you will both share the TA position. I can talk to the department, I should still have some extra funding left over from the last quarter. However, if you can’t get along, you both lose the position. Trust me when I say there are other students that would certainly appreciate this opportunity. So. Do we have a deal?” She stared them both down._

_Inwardly, Dean was screaming. So now he would be graded on his ability to play well with the other kids, too? And of course it had to be this guy, of all people. He wanted to tell her where she could shove her TA position, with its stupid competition and now this._

_But he shut down that line of thinking almost as quickly as it appeared. His mouth had already gotten him in enough trouble in the last half hour to last him a month. And he did, in the end, really want this position._

_Time to suck it up a little, Winchester._

_“Sure,” he said. “Sounds fair to me.”_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Professor Madison got up for a moment to refill her coffee cup. Briefly, she imagined adding something much stronger to it, and thought dryly that this was probably why the school did not allow alcohol in the faculty buildings.

She turned, and found the boys attempting to have what appeared to be a silent conversation, communicated entirely through eyebrows and nudging.

She rolled her eyes, and walked back to the desk.

“Now,” She said, “This appears, to me, to be where we leave off from the part where I understand… anything.” She raised an eyebrow.

Castiel grimaced a little. Dean, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to roll his eyes.

“It had been about two weeks…”

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Castiel yawned, reaching for his coffee mug. He threw back a gulp and grimaced as he realized it was now completely cold. He sighed, and drank down the rest of it resignedly._

_It had been a long two weeks, and Castiel was bordering on exhausted._

_The TA position was going better than he had anticipated. He was finding teaching the beginner classes engaging, and he actually liked the quiet monotony of grading. But on top of his regular course load, it was a lot._

_And then, on top of everything else, there was Dean Winchester._

_The thorn in Castiel’s metaphorical side._

_He had thought, after their formal competition had ended, that he would stop seeing Dean everywhere, but it was like the instances had actually doubled. Not only did he share office hours and class times with him, but it was as if every time he thought of him, Dean appeared. In the library, in the park, he’d even started showing up at the coffee shop, studying._

_Granted, it was the only coffee shop within walking distance of the university, but **still**. _

_But more than that. More than seeming to pop up like a weed wherever Castiel went, he was…_

**_Distracting._ **

_Constantly, constantly distracting._

_The way he would hum under his breath, sometimes, while marking._

_The way he left little smudges from his pens on the papers, because he would write so quickly and loosely he would smear his on writing._

_The way he would also have distracting little flecks of ink on his face when he would suck a pen tip into his mouth…_

_Which would lead to even more **frustrating** distractions. _

_The way Dean’s arms bulged as he carried models to the classroom._

_Or the way he would chuckle lowly at a particularly odd project designed by a first year student._

_How his eyes would glint a surprisingly deep green in the light of the one lamp they had for their desks in their tiny corner of the office._

_It didn’t help that Castiel knew, by now, why Dean had wanted the position so badly. From the short conversations they’d had, as per working together, he had seen the drive Dean had for what he was studying, for creating._

_A distraction, from everything Castiel knew he should be focusing on._

_Castiel tried to limit conversations, as it would only make Dean loom larger in the corner of his eye. Make him want to forget what he was doing, and focus only on the sound of his voice._

_Constant distractions, slowly driving him insane._

_Castiel scrubbed a hand across his face, and reached for the last of the loose-leaf in the middle of their adjoined desk._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_So sue him, maybe Dean had gotten a little curious about this totally weird guy that had been his biggest pain in the ass to date. He just figured, hey, at least he knew his name now, he might as well, you know, try to understand him a little. Try to figure out what made him tick._

_So, maybe he had started studying at the library a little more often. Maybe he’d decided he could treat himself to a coffee more often, when he thought Cas (what? Castiel was a weird name, nicknames are good too, for guys you… barely know) might be there._

_But after two weeks, honestly? Dean had nothing. The guy would barely speak to him, seemed constantly annoyed by him. He always seemed twitchier when Dean was nearby, would barely make eye contact and would jump if they brushed hands at their desks._

_Dean couldn’t help but be annoyed right back._

_Who did he even think he was?_

_Well, Dean kind of knew by now. Cas had mentioned his scholarships in the few conversations he had deemed allowable. And he’d watched him work. He knew Cas was serious, very serious about his work. He couldn’t help, sometimes, but admire his laser-like focus._

_So now, annoyed, Dean would watch him. Just to, you know, figure him out._

_Watched as he would ruffle his already well tousled hair while trying to interpret a first year’s confusing essay._

_Watched him try to cover his yawns during late evenings, when his eyes would float shut for just a moment and the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes would smooth._

_Watched his hands dance around when he lectured right beside him._

_Dean watched. And grew even more annoyed. Because he’s got nothing._

_Look at today, for instance. It’s been a long day in particular, today, because there was even less space in the office than usual. Several of the classes were presenting their midterm models for grading, meaning Dean and Castiel were almost barricaded in by piles of cardboard and paper. In an effort to save some space, Professor Madison had crammed the desks into a corner where they faced each other. They were now even more constantly turning into each other’s space when they got up, bumping hands across the middle section of the desk, and of course, catching each other’s eyes._

_Dean would swear it was making Castiel even more jumpy. He would flick his eyes around the room every time they accidentally looked up at the same time. The time he accidentally bumped his book with his own, he’d flinched enough to almost spill his coffee. It was driving Dean around the bend._

_It didn’t help that every times he looked up and met those Bambi eyes, his stomach flip flopped. But that wasn’t anything, he was sure._

_Dean sighed inwardly at himself. So what if he couldn’t figure this guy out? It wasn’t like it actually made a difference in his life. It wasn’t like they had any kind of real relationship._

_But he swore, the more Cas twitched and jumped, the more Dean wanted to do something about it._

_Dean stretched his arms over his head, letting his back pop as it straightened. Just a little more and he could go home, and leave this all these fizzy little feelings of annoyance behind him._

_He leaned forwards to grab the last sheet of loose-leaf from the center of the table without looking._

_The paper tugged back._

_Dean looked up, surprised. He and Cas were each holding one side of the paper._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Castiel almost swore as he stared at Dean over the sheet of paper. For the love of god. This was the last thing he needed today._

_“Dean,” he said with exasperation, “give me the paper.” He tugged at it again._

_Dean blinked at him, and then unexpectedly, his eyes narrowed._

_And he tugged it right back._

_“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Castiel said incredulously._

_Dean pursed his lips and shook his head. “Castiel, I’ve got one last evaluation to write before I’m done. Go find something else to work with.”_

_Castiel felt his eyes narrowing as well. “Dean, that’s the last of it. Evaluations are at least two pages, you’re going to need more than just this. Go get your own.”_

_He tugged it towards himself._

_Unbelievably, Dean tugged it right back._

_There was a ripping noise, and the paper fell into two pieces. They both stared at it for a moment, and then at each other._

_Castiel had had it. It was the end of a long day and the end of an even longer two weeks, and he was on his very last nerve._

_He shoved his chair back and stood up._

_“For god’s sake, you ridiculous person-” he started, when Dean jumped to his feet as well._

_Castiel felt his face heat. Suddenly the office was very small. Distantly, he thought he could count all of Dean’s freckles at this distance._

_Castiel focused, and glared. “Get out of my face, Dean.”_

_Dean glared right back and stepped around the desk._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Dean wasn’t… entirely sure what he was doing._

_He knew he was pissed. He knew Cas was pissed._

_He also knew it felt like his skin was on fire, and that Cas’ jaw was jutting in a way that should **not** be attractive._

_Cas looked him straight in the eye, and growled, “I said get out of my damn face!”_

_Dean’s pretty sure he’ll never know what possessed him to answer exactly like he did._

_“Make me.”_

_There was a beat of silence._

_And suddenly there’s fingers pulling his hair, and he’s biting at someone’s lips, and he’s got one hand on Cas’ ass and one on those narrow hip bones that had crashed into him at the library a few weeks ago. And Cas is doing something with his tongue that Dean does not even understand and-_

_They pull away for about 30 seconds for air, staring at each other. And Dean managed, “What the hell?”_

_Cas appeared to think for minute. Then shrugged._

_And 20 seconds later Cas has him shoved up against the desk, and he’s sucking what is going to be one **hell** of a hickey into the side of Dean’s neck. Dean can’t really find it in him to care, because he’s got his head thrown back and he’s moaning in a way that would be really embarrassing if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. He manages to yank Cas’ shirt out from his pants so he can push one hand up his chest and he’s got one leg wrapped around his waist, and then he feels a hand on his belt buckle and-_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

“That would be, again, when I walked in.” Professor Madison said dryly.

Castiel blushed more crimson than she’d seen yet. Dean slumped farther down into his chair, obviously trying to look contrite, and failing miserably.

“So,” she said. “Now we have the full story. I assume you’ve both had time to calm down, now?”

They both managed to nod at her.

“What, _exactly_ , do you propose we do with that, gentlemen? I do believe I made my opinions known about how you two were to work together.” She said.

Castiel coughs. “Well, I was thinking about that.”

“ _Were_ you,” she said.

He gulped, but seemed to find courage, and pressed on.

“While it’s clear that Dean and I have our… differences… I believe we could still be able to work together.” He folded his hands nervously in his lap.

Dean nodded quickly. “Yes, I agree. And it’s so late in the semester, it could be difficult to find other TAs…” he said, obviously attempting nonchalance.

She glared at him.

“…And, we could maybe actually put on the workshop, as well?” Castiel proposed.

“…And all your grading for the intermediate class?” Dean added.

She held her glare for another minute, to make them squirm. Then she rolled her eyes, and sighed.

“Fine.” She said, and rolled her eyes again as they both grinned at her. “Now please, go home.”

They babbled thanks at her, gathered their bags, and quickly vacated the office.

Professor Madison rubbed her face. She was going to take her daughter to her sister’s, and she and her sister were going to have a stiff drink.

She got out of her chair, and went to the coatrack on the back wall to get her coat. She looked over at the window ledge and saw she’d left her coffee mug on it. She’d better wash it out before she left.

She grabbed the mug and headed to the private faculty bathroom down the hall.

Within four feet of the door she came to a screeching halt.

From the bathroom, she heard muffled thumping noises. And then, quite clearly, someone moaning.

Professor Madison clenched her eyes shut in frustration.

“Boys. _GO. HOME!_ ” She shouted.

There was silence. And then-

“…Yes, Professor Madison!” from two familiar voices.

She turned on her heel and started walking towards the door. Make that _two_ stiff drinks.


End file.
